


not a meet cute

by boiledorangejuice



Category: Company - Sondheim/Furth, Merrily We Roll Along - Sondheim/Furth
Genre: Implied Relationship, M/M, absolute crack, guys who kinda hate each other, protests i guess?, slight homoeroticism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:55:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25963198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boiledorangejuice/pseuds/boiledorangejuice
Summary: Robert is tired. This is pretty normal for him, since his life is usually spent strung along by his series of crazy friends. On a plane trip home from visiting one of those good and crazy people, he manages to meet someone somehow worse than all the people he knows put together. It's a nightmare, but at least you (the reader) will probably be entertained.
Relationships: Robert (Company)/Charley Kringas
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	not a meet cute

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Absolute_Fool](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Absolute_Fool/gifts).



Robert had never liked flying much. It was expensive, and in his mind, a waste of time when he could just wait for anyone to visit him. But this time, well, Harry had gotten this promotion and begged Robert to fly out and meet him in Los Angeles. The man even offered to pay for the ticket, there was no getting out of it. Anyway, the trip was miserable. Of course Robert wasn’t opposed to a good old bar night, that is, as long as bar night wasn’t every night. As he saw it, alcohol did not make a party, people made a party. Harry seemed to disagree.

The weekend being over (thankfully), Robert had shoved his few shirts and suits back into his father’s old shabby suitcase and left for the airport without a proper goodbye. He meant to leave one, but Harry never picked up the phone. Either at work or hungover out of his mind. Robert could never tell.

The Los Angeles airport, or “LAX” as the trendy people called it, was an utter nightmare to navigate with tiny tunnels giving way to massive atria crowded with luxury shops and half of it under construction. People always said New York had its issues, but most of LA belonged in the loony bin if you had to ask him. Everything about this place had a slightly washed out and fuzzy look around the edges, just a tad too bright, or maybe that was the slight leftover buzz talking. With all the underground overground nonsense and confusion about if there was or wasn’t a train, it was a miracle Robert even found his way to the right gate. 

It was there that he first noticed the short bespectacled man staring. At first Robert couldn’t be sure if the man was staring at him specifically or just off into thin air (as some of Robert’s own friends were prone to do in moments of distress), but even after Robert stood to join the coffee line, he could feel that stare shift to follow him. Looking over his shoulder only confirmed the feeling. Now Robert wasn’t against being noticed, in most cases it was fine, but something about this airport lurker just made him feel slightly unsettled.

It was just Robert’s luck that he was seated right next to the stranger from before. As he dragged his suitcase awkwardly down the aisle, Robert crossed the fingers on his free hand, praying to be as far from that man as possible. It was terribly unfortunate to see him already seated by the window, completely oblivious to the now thoroughly unnerved Robert. Fate always seemed to have it out for Robert, even all the way out here in California. There was nothing to do. It was a full flight and Robert wasn’t about to throw himself in the way of some poor stewardess and ask to be moved. “Suffering was an inevitability,” he supposed and slid into the chair next to Mister Unnatural Feeling. Surprisingly enough, his eyes were now averted. Perhaps he didn’t know Robert caught him looking before.

Unsure what capricious force ordered this chance meeting, Robert was compelled to introduce himself. “Morning. Or at least I think it’s still morning.” This was embarrassing. Both he and the other man were wearing a watch. It was indeed still morning. “I’m Robert. Bobby is fine too, or any other variation according to my friends.” He didn’t need to go around telling strangers that. “So… What brought you out to California?”

Apparently the man’s name was Charley something-or-other. Robert couldn’t quite understand him. Upon closer inspection Charley was probably his age or slightly younger. Charley had come out to California to reject a movie deal set up by his friend Frank, to which Robert responded, “All the way out here just to say no?” and of course Charley affirmed this. Robert was slightly shocked by this small tidbit of information, first that Charley might be a person of some importance and second that rejecting a motion picture deal that big sounded absolutely mental.

Mental couldn’t even begin to define the rest of the rest of the flight, which Robert spent tuning in and out of Charley’s near incessant stream of conversation, mostly about this Frank person and occasionally dipping into some kind of political issue. When the in flight food service came, it was a relief to hear Charley shut up even for a few minutes at a time. Once Robert dozed off and when he came to, Charley was still on about something or other. At one point he asked Robert if he played the piano. This continued for the entire eight hour journey. Around the end, Robert felt a light tap on his shoulder. Unsurprisingly, it was Charley.

“Say man, thanks for listening to me go on and on, it’s been real nice. You know what? Let’s grab a drink when we get back to the city. I know a great pla—”

“No thanks.”

Robert had enough. It was times like these that he still valued being single.

〜〜〜

Robert never thought that he’d encounter Charley again. Hell, he’d even forgotten the man’s name, until that disastrous television interview. Everyone saw that one—Joanne was in fits about it for weeks after—but all Robert could think about was that one time on the plane. It had to be the same guy. Still, despite living in the same New York City in the same 70s years, Charley could have been in another universe for all Robert cared.

But then Marta called again, as she was prone to every few months. They had been separated for over a year, but kept in touch… Well, Marta kept in touch and Robert occasionally answered. This time the message was about some protest down in Times Square. People were organizing about everything these days, Robert saw them on the news, marching in the streets and chanting and carrying signs, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t develop a solid stance on any issue. It was fine if Marta thought he was a flake, it was hard to take anything she said seriously. However, Robert had blown off her last couple of calls and work was painfully slow, so he supposed that leaving a little early to see what the youth were up to wouldn’t hurt at all.

It seemed that Marta had started writing for some kind of equal rights journal, about women and gays and all that. She mailed him some journals, but they sat unopened on the corner of his desk, easy enough to cover up if anyone came over. She said that she was speaking today, that it was a big deal, and wouldn’t it be nice if he could get off his tight ass and come down for once. So Robert went.

And who should be lingering in the crowd but Charley. It had been a while, but the shabby clothing and crooked glasses were unmistakable. Robert wished that he would remain unnoticed, but when had his wishes ever been granted. It turns out that Charley had not forgotten Robert, much to the latter’s vague discomfort. Charley was also there for the protest, as he proudly informed Robert, and apparently wrote for the same newsletter as Marta. Just smashing.

It’s funny how people find each other, across time and space and coincidence. Odd meetings falling just so. Somehow this time around, Robert was slightly less irritated by Charley’s presence. The three had since come and gone and that familiar lonely feeling he tried so very hard to push away was slipping in through the cracks. As much as he felt that this ending was against his better judgement, this time when Charley asked about drinks, Robert said yes.

**Author's Note:**

> I hate you I hate you I hate you D:<
> 
> This is good unfortunately, which means that it's bad.  
> Sadly, I could probably write more about these two.
> 
> EDIT: I had to research the building and expansion of LAX to write this. Pro gamer move.


End file.
